On A Park Bench
by syncro
Summary: Roxas has always been plagued with strange memories. Shoving them to the back of his mind he can ignore them. But he can’t ignore the strange redhaired man who sits beside him on the park bench... [AkuRoku, oneshot]


A/N: Just something strange I wrote one day. Enjoy! (And review! XD)

**On A Park Bench**

**-------**

I.

"Roxas, finished your homework yet?"

Roxas smiles and lifts his arm out of the way to show the blank piece of paper. His friend looks down and shakes his head in mock-disappointment. Roxas doesn't bother to fight when the other boy steals the paper and waves it in front of his nose. "Hey, you have to finish this you know."

He does know and he says as much, causing the other boy to sigh and shake his head again. Roxas scratches the back of his own head with his pen before placing it down on the desk and stretching his arms.

"I just don't know what to write."

"Hey man, don't sweat. They're just memories right?"

The words seem wrong to Roxas but he still nods in agreement. "Yeah...just memories."

His friend nods back and walks away, leaving Roxas with a blank sheet of paper and an empty mind. He's not sure what to write. He hasn't decided yet. How can you decide which memories are important?

II.

Roxas isn't quite sure when they began. The memories just came one day and they haven't left since. He doesn't really mind, they don't affect him much. He hasn't forgotten them but he can cast them to the back of his mind so it _seems_ like he has. It's just the occasional thing that will jolt them to the forefront again.

The memories are strange, like liquid. They flow through his mind before washing away again; leaving only a strange, distinct feeling that he has lost something. It's frustrating because he doesn't know what it is he's supposed to be missing. Only that it's lost and he can't get it back. So he pushes the memories away and focuses on making new ones.

But the memories can be damn persistent.

He's spent the majority of his life running from the past. He doesn't remember much of his life; his therapist says he's blocked it out to save himself the pain. Roxas would scoff but he doesn't know what he'd be scoffing at. So he remains silent and agrees with her. He agrees with most people, it's easier that way.

When he was young he agreed to move when his mother wanted her own space. He liked the new house, it was bigger than before and his father was no longer around. They spent a lot of time painting it together before his mother gave up. The house is only half-decorated but he doesn't care. He thinks it has character.

Because they moved away he had a choice to change schools or commute to his old school by bus. His mother said that the second idea was costly and just stupid and so Roxas agreed with her. He didn't mind changing schools. The new one is more modern and clean and the teacher's are nicer. Even if he had to do extra work to catch up he doesn't care. He agreed to do the extra in-class assignments so his grades would improve and he agreed to look after the class hamster when the teacher got sick to get in her good graces.

Roxas thinks it's okay to agree but he can feel something cracking inside him every time he does and he fears that one day he may explode and he's not quite sure what will happen after that.

When his therapist asked him if he liked pleasing people he immediately said 'yes'. And then he had to rethink the idea. The other memories interfere sometimes; they can merge with his own without his realising it. He knows that they're different, that they belong to someone else, but it seems like the memories disagree.

He's come to think of them as a separate, living identity even when he knows it's wrong. He thinks of them as a parasite, eating away inside of him until all that's left is the memories and there's nothing left of himself anymore.

What will he become when he's not Roxas anymore?

III.

He meets him on a park bench.

It's cold and he's only wearing a T-shirt so he's freezing, but he agreed to do the washing this week and forgot and these are his only clean clothes. He doesn't mind much, he has a high immune system and he's not afraid of a bit of bad weather.

The park bench is as green as the tree that bows over it and Roxas takes delight in cracking a branch and tearing off the leaves. He scatters them on the ground, bending his head to look at the floor. The leaves are beginning to change colour and he finds this fascinating.

He blames this on the reason he doesn't see him at first.

"Hey, Roxas." The voice is soft somehow, but masculine and it strikes a chord in Roxas that brings the other memories rushing to the front of his mind. It scares him and he jerks, almost falling off the bench but someone grabs his arm.

"Let go!" He says because he's scared and he doesn't like not knowing what is happening.

The other guy let goes immediately and backs up, his two arms held up in surrender. Roxas would find it amusing if he weren't shivering. He knows it isn't the cold but he can't seem to stop shaking. He backs up and the man looks hurt but Roxas doesn't care. His head hurts all of a sudden like something is striving to get out. So he runs.

He's not sure he wants to see the other memories. Not yet.

IV.

He made friends with Hayner by volunteering to carry his bag for two weeks. He's not sure why he did it. Some part of him cried out that he had to be Hayner's friend no matter what and so he did as the other boy asked to gain the honour of being called his 'friend'.

Roxas isn't sure he believes in the idea of friendship. The other memories do and they cling to Hayner like a bur but whenever Roxas is near Hayner he can feel the gap getting larger. Something should be there but isn't and it pains Roxas to see it. He can feel it gnawing away inside until it makes him want to scream and he doesn't like it.

Not one bit. Because he doesn't know what he can do to fix it.

V.

Their second meeting comes not long after the first.

Roxas is on the bench again. He's wearing a jacket this time, his favourite one. It's chequered, black and white and red. Somehow the red doesn't quite fit in but he likes it anyway. It's nice. That's all that matters.

It's the same kind of thing he associates with the bench. He likes sitting there, it's calming. He can see the children playing on the grass before him and the joggers go by without noticing. It's right somehow, but not. He should find it disconcerting after all. Nobody stops to look at him, nobody turns around and stares. It could almost be like he weren't there at all.

Like _he's_ the nobody – not them.

The thought makes something quake inside of him so he does what he always does. He shoves it to the back of his mind.

And then _he_ comes and for some reason he can feel the memories stirring inside of him. They push at his defences until he can feel a headache coming on again. He turns to stare at the man – guy, boy? He doesn't look old, but he doesn't look young either. He's tall, taller than Roxas. He also has red hair. Startling red hair that looks strangely like a firecracker Roxas found in a book once.

It's fascinating and Roxas wants to touch it but he sits on his hands instead.

The other guy looks nervous. Something inside of Roxas is saying that this is unusual but he hushes it before it can carry on. He's never _met_ this guy so he doesn't know whether he's usually nervous or not.

"So, Roxas...you've really forgotten again, huh?"

"No," the word is out before he can stop it and Roxas curses. It's times like these that he hates the memories. He can feel himself drowning and he looks determinedly down at the ground. _Hayner, Pence, Olette. _The words become a mantra in his mind and he's confused because he _doesn't know why._ Who is Pence? Who is Olette?

His headache is getting worse and he turns to glare at the red-haired man. "Please leave."

"No, Roxas. You see, I'm getting kind of tired with you forgetting me all the time. So this time round, I'm gonna _make_ you remember. Then we can skip all the bits in between and you can-"

"Shut up!" He doesn't mean to shout but he does. The nearby joggers stop and stare; the red-haired guy has his eyebrow raised. Roxas finds he doesn't care. "Shut up, shut up, shut up!"

"Now, now Roxas. A bit old for temper tantrums aren't you?"

"Leave me alone!" And just like that the other guy makes a face and turns around.

Roxas watches as he goes, the leaves rustling in his wake as he walks through them. He can feel something aching in his chest but he ignores it.

He's become so used to it that he doesn't even notice.

VI.

Roxas isn't smart but he isn't an idiot either. He's ordinary. He's _normal_. He fits in and that's exactly how he wants it. Hayner drags him around the school, starting fights and teasing him and for some reason it feels _right._

He hates that feeling.

It happens sometimes, when he least expects it something will just _click_. A clock tower, an ice cream, a house, a girl with pigtails or a boy with a red shirt...A part of him will jump to attention and he'll feel himself filling up with excitement. And then the part of him that was so happy at finding something will lose it and die again.

It's a horrible feeling.

And he hates it. And he wants to find it so bad it hurts.

VII.

"The name's Axel. Want me to spell it out for you?"

"A-X-E-L. Got it memorised?" The words slip out before he can stop them and he clasps his hands over his mouth before he can say anything else.

"Ha! Sure you haven't remembered anything yet Roxas?"

"No. Leave me alone."

"No can do. You see, I'm the one charged with getting you to remember. You always were the most stubborn."

Roxas is annoyed because the other is still talking and it feels so _familiar_ and for some strange reason he feels like _smiling _and he wants to smile of his own free will. He hates not being in charge of his own body. So instead he scowls and shuffles away from Axel on the bench.

It doesn't help. Axel simply moves closer.

"Roxas, leaving so soon?"

"You'll forgive me if I don't feel all that comfortable in your company. You're a _stranger_ after all," he emphasises the word and feels the damn twinge again when Axel flinches. Roxas finds it interesting how fast the other can wipe the look of hurt off his face before he carries on.

"So, meet here again tomorrow?"

And for some reason Roxas nods before he's fully aware of it. He frowns and walks away before Axel can beat him to it.

VIII.

His therapist finds the memories interesting and is always trying to get him to talk about them. He always refuses.

People don't seem to realise that he doesn't want to talk about them. If he keeps on denying them then they stay back, he's safe. As soon as he starts accepting them he'll fall apart and he's not sure who he'll be in the end.

It's strange because he gets a sense of déjà vu whenever he feels like this.

If he's not Roxas then who will be?

And for some reason a voice in his head whispers one word. _Sora._

IX.

"Who's Sora?" He asks the question because he can – not because he wants to know. It's a conscious decision on his part and he likes it this way. He likes being in control.

Axel looks uncomfortable which is a turnaround from normal. Roxas feels a small amount of satisfaction in this.

"Sora is...er..._was_ the other you."

For some reason the words don't surprise him. He half-expected them. After all, he has two sets of memories, obviously the other set had to belong to someone. Why not this Sora?

"What happened to him?"

Axel doesn't reply. Instead he stares. He stares at the ground, at the falling leaves, at the grass, and then at Roxas. Those eyes are disconcerting for some reason and Roxas has to look away.

"You won't know until you remember," Axel finally says.

The answer makes Roxas frown and Axel is still laughing at him when he leaves.

X.

The therapist is very keen on talking about his father. Roxas has told her over and over that he doesn't remember but she never seems to listen. He thinks she's an idiot and would tell her such but it wouldn't make a difference.

All he knows is that he wouldn't want to remember even if he could. He also knows that the other memories – the memories that aren't his – are somehow protecting him. So he curls up inside the memories when he feels vulnerable and they shield him. He knows he shouldn't give in to them but sometimes he feels so _weak_ and they make him stronger.

He's told that he gets a cold look in his eyes when he does this. He would think it's strange but now, somehow, it's different.

And it frightens him.

XI.

"So, Roxas, ready to come out of hiding yet? Come on! It's been _three weeks_."

It has been three weeks. Roxas doesn't know why they keep on meeting but they do. He'll come and sit on his bench and somehow – every time – Axel will stroll along and just settle down casually next to him. It's eerie how familiar it all feels.

"Everyone else has already met up again; we're just waiting for Number Thirteen you know?"

"Number Thirteen?" The number is important somehow. It speaks to him and he grins slightly, almost pouting when Axel points it out with an even bigger grin. "Involuntary muscle spasm," he mutters and turns away.

Axel laughs some more and then leaves without saying goodbye.

Roxas doesn't know why but he doesn't like that.

_Well, we never got a chance to say goodbye properly before..._

XII.

There's a breakthrough in therapy one day. His therapist pesters him until he yells the truth at her and she blinks, shocked. Roxas would feel pleased that he's shocked her into silence but he's too busy shaking.

It's the uncontrollable shaking that he hates, that he despises. And the only way out is to curl up into a ball and hideaway in the cocoon of memories. For some reason there's always warmth there, always light.

This time, when he falls into the warmth, he knows who it belongs too.

_Axel._

And finally, _finally_, he gives into them.

XIII.

"Hey, did you hear what happened to that boy who used to go to this school? You know, before you came?"

"No, what?"

"I heard he had a mental breakdown! Completely flipped during therapy! They had to get police in and everything."

"Really?"

"Yeah, you should stay away from him, who knows what could happen. He used to have the whole memory thing too. It's strange – that you're both like that. But I know you're not crazy. Right, Sora?"

"Right. I'm not crazy. What was the boy's name?"

"Oh – I forget. Rex? Rox-something?"

_Roxas.__ My name is Roxas_


End file.
